Day Watch

by Сергей Лукьяненко

  "Witezslav," said the Inquisitor. "Witezslav Grubin, let's go."

  They made their way out of the crowd easily-for some reason the people moved aside for the Inquisitor, even though he didn't make use of his powers as an Other. They set off along a narrow little street, gradually moving farther and farther away from the idle tourists.

  "How was your flight, Anton?" Witezslav inquired. "Have you had a rest, some lunch?"

  "Yes, thank you, everything's fine."

  A show of politeness from an Inquisitor, even if it was strictly formal, was a pleasant surprise.

  "Do you require any assistance from the office?"

  Anton shook his head, quite certain that Witezslav would sense the movement, even though he was walking in front.

  "That's good," the Inquisitor replied in the same indifferent voice, but quite sincerely. "There's so much work to do… The office coming to Prague is a great event for us. We feel very proud. But our department is very small and there's a lot of work to do."

  "As I understand it, the Inquisition hasn't had to intervene very often in Prague?"

  "That's right. The Watches here are law-abiding. They don't violate the Treaty very much."

  That's right, thought Anton. The Inquisition's job had always been to resolve disagreements between the Watches, but crimes committed by individual Others were dealt with by the Watches. The atmosphere of a normal European country was hardly likely to have a pacifying effect on the Dark Ones. But within the framework of an organization they'd learned to respect the law.

  Or at least to break it less obviously.

  "The Tribunal session to consider the case of Igor Teplov, magician of the second level, will commence tomorrow evening," said Witezslav. Anton appreciated the fact that he had used Igor's full name and given his status as a magician, and also the statement that the session would "commence" and not "take place." That meant the Inquisition hadn't reached any conclusions yet. And it was prepared for a long hearing. "Would you like to see him?"

  "Yes, of course," Anton said with a nod. "I have some letters for him from the other guys, some presents…"

  He stopped short-that phrase about the letters and the presents had sounded very dismal somehow. As if he really had brought a parcel for someone in prison. Or to the hospital bed of someone who was seriously ill…

  "I've got a car," said the Inquisitor. "We can stop at your hotel for the parcel and then go to see the detainee."

  "Igor… is he somewhere in the Inquisition?"

  "No, why would he be?" said Witezslav, answering a question with a question. He stopped beside a Skoda Felicia parked at the curb. "We might have kept a Dark One who was detained under observation. But your colleague is in an ordinary hotel. He signed a pledge not to leave the city."

  Anton nodded, admitting it had been a stupid question. It was true, what was the point of putting a Light magician in a cell?

  "Excuse me, Witezslav…" he said. "I know it has nothing to do with the work you do now, but I was wondering… just wondering, without any ulterior motive… I could probably try to probe you, but it's not appropriate somehow…"

  "Who I used to be?" asked Witezslav.

  "Yes."

  The Inquisitor took out a key and pressed the button on the tag to switch off the car alarm. He opened the door.

  "I'm a vampire. Or rather, I was a vampire."

  "A Higher Vampire?" Anton asked for some reason.

  "Yes."

  Anton got into the front seat and fastened his seat belt. The vampire Witezslav started the engine, but waited before driving off, giving it a chance to warm up.

  "I'm sorry, it really was an idiotic question," Anton admitted.

  "Of course it was. Absolutely idiotic." The Inquisitor obviously didn't suffer from an excess of tact. "As far as I'm aware, Anton, you are still extremely young…"

  He drove the car out into the street, carefully and smoothly. Of course, he didn't ask what hotel Anton was staying in-he didn't need to. He said, "You probably have certain illusions concerning the nature of the Inquisition and what kind of Others work in it. So allow me to explain a few things to you. The Inquisition is not a third force, as many ordinary members of the Watches believe. And we don't become some special kind of Others who aren't connected to the Darkness or the Light… We are simply Inquisitors. Selected from those Dark and Light Others who for various reasons have come to realize the absolute necessity of the Treaty and the truce between the Watches. Yes, we do possess certain information that you in the Watches don't have… apart, perhaps, from the very greatest magicians. And believe me, Anton Gorodetsky, when I tell you there is nothing comforting in what we know. We are obliged to stand on guard over the Treaty. Do you understand?"

  "I'm trying to understand," said Anton.

  "I'm a vampire," Witezslav repeated. "An absolutely genuine Higher Vampire who has often killed young girls… that's the most correct energetic…"

  "Please don't lecture me on the physiology of vampires," said Anton. "I find it unpleasant, believe me."

  Witezslav nodded, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the road. Anton suddenly realized that the car was still new-it was well taken care of. The Inquisitor was clearly proud of it…

  "Well then, I don't possess a soul, and I'm not even alive in the sense that Light Ones use that word," said Witezslav. "I regard the cause of the Light as a naive, dangerous, and frequently criminal doctrine. And on the other hand, I sympathize with the cause of the Darkness. But…"

  He paused for a moment, as if he were defining a complex pattern of thought. "But I have a very clear picture of the alternative to the present situation. And that's why I'm a member of the Inquisition. That's why I punish those who have violated the Treaty. Note that, Anton. Not those who are wrong-after all, there are always at least two sides to the truth. The Light has sometimes acquired great Power, and there have been times when the Darkness has triumphed. All the Inquisition does is stand guard over the Treaty."

  "I understand," said Anton. "Naturally. But I've always wondered if a situation could arise in which the Inquisition would support one side or the other, not based on the letter of the Treaty, but on the truth…"

  "There are always at least two sides to the truth," the Inquisitor repeated. "A situation…"

  He thought about it.

  "I've never come across a Light Inquisitor who would support his own Watch," Anton added. "But is the situation really the same with a Dark Inquisitor? Say what you will, but you have your own powers, your own esoteric knowledge. And I'm not talking about confiscated artifacts in the archives."

  "Anything is possible," the vampire said unexpectedly. "Yes… I could see it. If open war broke out between the Darkness and the Light, not just a clash between the Watches, but real war between the Darkness and the Light. If every Other stood on his own side of the front, then what need would there be for the Inquisition? Then we would simply be Others…" He nodded and added, "Only by that time the Inquisition would probably have been destroyed in the attempt to prevent such a situation arising. There aren't that many of us. And what a few surviving Others who once wore the Inquisitor's robes might decide to do wouldn't change a thing."

  "I understand what makes the Night Watch observe the Treaty," said Anton. "We're afraid for people. And I know what motivates the Day Watch-fear for themselves. But what makes you Inquisitors go against your own essential nature?"

  Witezslav turned his head and said quietly, "The only thing that restrains you is fear, Anton Gorodetsky. For yourself, or for people-that's not important. But we are restrained by horror. And that is why we observe the Treaty. You have no need to be concerned about the outcome of the trial-there won't be any fixes. If your colleague has not violated the Treaty, he will leave Prague alive and well."

  By the evening Edgar had recovered a bit from his annoyance. Maybe he'd been helped by a good dinner in an expensive restaurant with a bottle of vintage Czech wine (well, it wasn't French, or even Spanish, bu
t it certainly wasn't bad). Or maybe the atmosphere of Prague at Christmas had a soothing effect. Naturally, Edgar didn't believe in God-not many of the Others, especially Dark Ones, suffered from superstitions like that. But he found the festival of Christmas really very enjoyable, and he always tried to celebrate it accordingly.

  Maybe it was the influence of memories of his childhood? When he was a simple country boy called Edgar who helped his father on the farm, went to church, and looked forward to every holiday with his heart singing. Or maybe he remembered the 1920s and '30s, when he was already an Other, but not actively involved in the Watch, when he lived in Tallinn, had a good practice as an attorney, a wonderful wife and four little boys… His parents had died long ago, and he had buried his wife. One of his two surviving sons lived in Canada and the other in Parnu, but he hadn't seen them for forty years. It would have been hard for the old men to believe that this youthful, sturdy man was their father, who had been born in the late nineteenth century.

  Yes, it must be the memories, Edgar thought as he lit up his cigar. There had been a lot of good things in ordinary human life, after all. Maybe he should play at being human again? Get married, have a family… take thirty years' leave from the Watch…

  He laughed hollowly. That was all nonsense. You couldn't step into the same river twice. He'd lived as a man, lived as an ordinary Other, and now his place was in the Day Watch. It was all right for Anton, with his unspent passion and fresh, vital emotions, but all that fretting and fussing wouldn't suit Edgar any longer.

  Edgar caught the eye of the young woman sitting, bored and alone, at the next table. He smiled, and touched her mind with the gentlest of touches.

  Not a prostitute, just a young girl out looking for adventure. That was good. He didn't like professionals. There was nothing they could surprise him with anyway.

  He called the waiter over and ordered a bottle of champagne.

  Chapter four

  –«¦»-

  The Inquisition had not been mean with the detainees. The hotel was a perfectly decent one and, while Igor was not in a deluxe accommodation, he had a suite with two good rooms.

  Anton hesitated for a second before he walked toward Igor.

  How he had changed…

  Igor had always been an operational agent. He'd joined the Watch during the years after the war-there had been a lot of work to do then. On the one hand there was an upsurge of Light emotions, and on the other hand, during the difficult war years all sorts of petty riffraff had multiplied. And with the general atheistic mood in the country, it wasn't easy for anybody to accept that he or she was an Other. But it had been easy for Igor to accept his true nature; he had been glad to. He didn't really see much difference between parachuting in behind the fascist lines to blow up bridges and catching vampires and werewolves on the streets of Moscow. His Power was an honest third level, with little chance of advancing to anything higher, but even the third level is fairly substantial, if it's reinforced with experience, courage, and good reactions.

  Igor had all of those in abundance. Perhaps he was just a little bit short on experience, but then he had worked in the Watch at a time when you could easily count one year as three. Perhaps he wasn't as well-read or erudite as Ilya or Garik, and he hadn't taken part in as many impressive operations as Semyon, but there weren't many who could match him out in the field. And there was one other thing that Anton had always liked-Igor had stayed young. Not just physically-that was no problem for a magician of his level-but in his soul. Who was it who would gladly accompany fifteen-year-old Yulia from the analytical department to some place in Tushino for the launch of the album "A Hundred Fifty Billion Steps" by the fashionable band Tequila Jazz? Who was it who was happy to spend time coping with a teenager riddled with complexes who'd just realized he was an Other? Who would enthusiastically devote five years to extreme parachuting simply in order to verify the theory about the high numbers of Others involved in extreme sports? Who was always first to volunteer to take a colleague's watch or take on the most boring assignment (there was no lack of volunteers for the dangerous ones)? Maybe it was a mistake, but for some time already Anton had felt that it was safer to have your back covered by a partner who was reliable and cheerful, rather than powerful and worldly-wise. A powerful and wise partner could always be distracted by a more important job than covering someone else's back…

  But the Other standing in front of Anton now didn't look either powerful or cheerful. Igor had lost a lot of weight. There was a strange, dull, hopeless yearning in his eyes. And he didn't seem to know what to do with his hands… sometimes he put them behind his back, sometimes he clasped them together.

  "Anton," he said after a long silence. Without a smile, with only the faintest trace of gladness. "Hello, Anton."

  On a sudden impulse, Anton stepped forward and put his arms around Igor. He whispered: "Hello… Now what are you doing in such a state…"

  Witezslav, who was standing by the door, said quietly, "I shan't issue any official warnings about associating with detainees… since you're Light Ones. Shall I wait for you, Gorodetsky?"

  "No, thank you," said Anton, stepping back from Igor, but leaving one hand on his shoulder. "I'll make my own way back."

  "Igor Teplov, the session of the Tribunal to consider your case will convene tomorrow evening, at seven o'clock local time. A car will come for you at six thirty; be ready."

  "I've been ready for a long time," Igor said quietly. "Don't worry."

  "All the best," the vampire said politely as he went out.

  The two Light Ones were left alone together.

  "Do I look damned awful?" Igor asked.

  Anton didn't lie: "Worse than that. I've seen corpses that looked better. Anybody would think you were being kept on bread and water."

  Igor shook his head seriously. "Oh no, I've been kept in good conditions."

  There was a hint of irony in his words, as if he were talking about some animal sitting in a cage in a zoo.

  "I've got a parcel here for you," Anton replied in the same tone of voice, clutching at that weak thread of life. "Is feeding the animals permitted?"

  "Yes, it is," Igor said with a nod. "I just… I just can't eat, you know? I can't read books, I don't want to get drunk… or see anybody either. I switch on the television and watch it until three o'clock in the morning. When I get up I switch it on again. You know, I've already mastered the Czech language. It's very easy to understand."

  "That's terrible," said Anton with a nod. "All right. As you can understand, when I left I was given confidential instructions- to give you back the will to live."

  Igor actually smiled at that. "I understand. That's to be expected… well, get the things out."

  Anton put a thick pile of letters on the table. There was just one name on each envelope-the name of the person who had written the letter.

  "These are from all our gang. Olga said you had to read her letter first. But Yulia and Lena said the same thing. So you choose for yourself…"

  Igor looked at the letters thoughtfully and nodded. "I'll throw a dice. All right, get out the rest. I don't mean the letters."

  Anton smiled as he took a bottle wrapped in paper out of a plastic bag.

  "Smirnoff No. 21," said Igor. "Right?"

  "Right."

  "I knew it. Carry on."

  Anton carried on, smiling in embarrassment as he took out a small loaf of Borodinsky black bread, a stick of salami, salted cucumbers in a polythene vacuum pack, several purple Yalta onions, and a piece of pork fat.

  "Why, you devils," said Igor, shaking his head. "Everything the way I like it. Semyon advised you, did he?"

  "Yes."

  "The customs officers must have thought you were insane."

  "I made them look the other way. I'm on official business- so I have the right."

  "I see. Okay, I'll just get everything ready. And you tell me what's been going on back there. I've been kept informed… but it's better coming from yo
u. About Andrei, about Tiger Cub… about that whole damn mess."

  While Igor was making the snacks, rinsing the glasses and drying them carefully, and opening the bottle, Anton told him in brief about the recent events in Moscow.

  Igor poured vodka into four glasses without speaking. He covered two with slices of bread, set one in front of Anton, and took the last one himself.

  "For the guys," he said. "May the Light show them compassion. For Tiger Cub… for Andriukha."

  They drank without clinking glasses, and Anton looked at Igor curiously. Igor began coughing and looked at his glass, perplexed.

  "Anton… wait… this vodka's fake!"

  "Of course!" Anton confirmed happily. "Absolutely genuine fake vodka-pure alcohol diluted with tap water. I chose it specially. You wouldn't believe how hard it is nowadays to buy fake vodka in the shops!"

  "But why?" Igor exclaimed.

  "What do you mean, why? Why did I bring you Borodinsky bread? I could have bought a loaf of fresh, tasty black bread in any shop in Prague! And the salami too, and the pork fat. The onions would have been the only problem…"

  "So this is a greeting from the motherland, is it?" said Igor, still wincing.

  "Precisely."

  "Oh no… I want to greet my last morning without a headache," Igor said seriously. He frowned and passed his hand above the bottle and the two full glasses. The liquid glimmered a lemon-yellow color for a moment. Igor explained in a slightly guilty voice: "I'm allowed to use lower magic."

  "Then pour another glass."

  "Are you in some kind of a hurry?" Igor asked, squinting at Anton as he poured the transformed vodka.

  "No, where would I be going?" Anton replied. "I'd rather sit here with you and have a chat. Do you know why I changed the bottle?"

  "So you're the perpetrator?"

  "Yes, it was me. Semyon brought the real thing. But I wanted to remind you that a beautiful bottle doesn't always contain good stuff."